


A Liquor Store or Two

by snowrabbitmagic



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowrabbitmagic/pseuds/snowrabbitmagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey's drunk but not as drunk as Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Liquor Store or Two

**Author's Note:**

> old old ooold story that is riddled with mistakes but im too lazy to fix ewe;;

Mikey’s drunk but not as drunk as Frank. Mikey’s not the one who was giggling uncontrollably. He’s not the one who almost fell over in front of everyone at the bar, and it wasn’t him who needed catching either. It most definitely wasn’t Mikey who’s receiving a piggyback home to their apartment right now, not at all. Nothing at all that matches the description of Frank is happening to him. Yes, he’s off his face but he can still walk straight. Almost.

He’s the man who’s trudging through the dim lit streets in just an old Anthrax t-shirt and black skinnies, carrying Frank who unlike him, chose to wear a long jumper and a scarf. Mikey’s supposed to be the one with more sense at this point, but clearly his lack of warm clothing puts him on a similar scale to a ridiculously drunk Frank. If Frank were sober, he’d be able to feel his bandmate’s fingers digging into his leg from the intense cold. Right now, Frank isn’t capable of feeling anything apart from how nice Mikey’s shoulder is. He doesn’t even notice how Mikey rolls his eyes whenever he tries to snuggle into him or the fact that he’s annoyed. Where they are isn’t of any importance to him either. He’s got something comfortable to lean on, he doesn’t have to walk; you could say for a moment Frank had it all. Drunk as fuck and making small slurred sounds, Frank’s in fucking paradise.

However, Mikey is not. Mikey doesn’t have the security of another person and wants to rest just the same amount as Frank is. He longs to get out of the empty streets, the lights that he finds too bright and just fall into a prolonged sleep. Anything will do for him right now, he couldn’t care less if it were the pavement or a sofa. But he keeps walking knowing he needs to get them both home so they don’t look like hung over idiots on the street the next morning. A sigh escapes his lips as his breath appears against the invisible air. The bassist’s footsteps echo down the pavement as they enter the pathway of dark houses, one of them being their own. Frank hasn’t made any noises for a while and Mikey hopes he’s sleeping. He still feels like passing out there and then, but their house is close and he knows the whole walk would have been a waste if he was just going to go “fuck it” at the last minute.

Once Mikey finishes spending a good five minutes struggling with his keys, he manages to haul himself and Frank inside and somehow lock the door. He sneaks a glance at Frank who did fall asleep out of exhaustion. Mikey can’t decide whether to smile out relief or be annoyed that he isn’t able to do the same. But because he’s drunk, he ends up grinning stupidly and takes Frank into the living room. Being asleep, Frank hasn’t noticed any of this. He barely remembers the walk home or anything of that night. He doesn’t remember or think about anything at this point. His body has shut down altogether for a dreamless sleep. The alcohol lived up to its name of a ‘sedative’ and put him into a blank nothing for him to recover. He’s not aware that Mikey’s been standing in front of the sofa for about ten minutes, swaying every so often. His mind doesn’t know that Mikey’s trying to think of a way to sit without waking him up. If he were awake he’d be surprised that he hadn’t even sat down at all by now. So when Mikey sits down, he ends up getting surprised.

Mikey did end up saying “fuck it”. Well actually he spat it out with gritted teeth whilst swinging Frank around his front, and falling back on the sofa so his body bounced and Frank jolted. Mikey’s lidded eyes watch Frank’s body jerk upright as his eyes snap open before returning to their constantly lidded state. Frank’s eyes are about as closed as Mikey’s but unlike Mikey, Frank’s are lidded on default. He grins at the taller man even though his vocal chords are letting out a deep protesting whine. The whine turns into a small laugh as he feels Mikey’s hand pushing back his hair several times. Though he’s drunk and has his usual blank expression, he still manages to avoid putting too much pressure on Frank’s head and Frank’s just enjoying staring into the eyes that appear to bore into him.

However, Mikey’s not seeing straight and is just giving off the impression of deep concentration. The way Frank’s pushing his head lightly into his palm is one of the last things on his mind. How he’s leaning forward as Frank mumbles something in appreciation and places his lips against Frank’s forehead and cheeks isn’t bothering him. Frank not being bothered either also has no effect on him. Frank’s childish, smiling face pressing itself into his neck doesn’t fill him with any desire to push him away. Nor does he feel any annoyance or reason to question why Frank’s face is the last thing he imagines before the alcohol hits him and forces him into the same darkness Frank was in earlier.


End file.
